


Five Times Sid Kirmani Couldn't Believe His Eyes, and Once He Could

by beachkid (binz), binz



Category: Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: 3pov, Gen, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-05
Updated: 2008-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binz/pseuds/beachkid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/binz/pseuds/binz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is says on the box. TV!verse with a smattering of book elements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Sid Kirmani Couldn't Believe His Eyes, and Once He Could

Murphy slides the piece of paper across his desk, pinning it down with one finger.

"Wizard," Kirmani says. "It says 'Wizard.'"

Murphy nods, releasing the paper, and leans back in her chair. She's waiting for something, and Kirmani finds it a moment later.

"Wait," he says. "Wait. Dresden." He picks up the paper, scrambles for a moment because it's thin and worn, an ad torn out of the phone book, and squints at it. "That's that guy. The P.I.; the one you said was helping us out on the Harrson disappearance. That's him. He's a _wizard_? Holy hell, Murphy - "

Murphy presses a finger to his lips. "He'll be here in a few minutes." Her mouth twists, and she adds, "More like ten, knowing Harry. But he'll help us. And I want you to know what you're getting into."

"What _I'm_ getting into," Kirmani says, and she hushes him again by turning away, taking the ad from his hand and sliding it into a day planner. Sid scowls at her back. Of all the cops in the city to fall for some sort of scam like that, Connie Murphy wouldn't have come within breathing room of his list.

He glares at the open files on his desk, prodding at the papers with his pen and pretending he doesn't hear the whispers around him and only looks up when the elevator pings and Murphy stands. A wizard. Great.

   
   


**2**

"Kirmani," Dresden says, rocking back and forth on his heels. Kirmani looks up at Dresden, his head visible over the cubical sidings of his desk, and Dresden stares back, scruffy as usual with a half-quirked smile. Sid scowls. "Murph around?"

"No," Kirmani says, and thinks of the rattle of the pill bottle he's not supposed to know about in her bag as she darted away. He drops his head and goes back to filling out a report, drowning out the memory with the clack of keys.

"Um," Dresden says, and Kirmani finishes his sentence before looking back up. "She say when she'll be back?"

"No," Kirmani says again, and types another line.

Dresden sighs, and a brown paper bag, scrunched closed and wrinkled, plops down on Kirmani's desk. "Look. She wanted this. Can you see that she gets it? Before," he shoots a glance at the clock on the wall, "five, five-thirty?"

Kirmani peers at the corner of his screen, and it flickers. He frowns. It's just after one, and he huffs a breath, rubbing at his forehead. "She won't be back today. Her daughter's sick."

"Anna? She still got that flu? I thought she was getting better." Dresden is behind him now, and reaches across to grab the bag back.

Kirmani's screen flickers again, and the tower sparks. "Shit!" he dives for the keyboard, saving compulsively with the vague hope that he might be able to salvage something.

Dresden slides back, lips twisting, and hovers a few feet away. "... Butters around?" he asks, and Kirmani glares at him.

"I'm sorry, does it look like I have the time or willingness to care?" Dresden squints, and Kirmani waves a hand. "He's working nights this week."

His monitor dies and the fan spins desperately; its sounds like a lawnmower and Sid thinks he might cry.

"I'll just - "

"Dresden!" Kirmani's chair spins faster than he meant it to, and he has to slam his feet against the ground to stop. "What is it? What is so important?" He snatches the bag from Dresden's grasp, and peers into it.

The thing is about the size of his hand, and looks a lot like an ear, but it's purple-tinged with two tips and coarse white hair, and seems to be oozing slime. And moving.

"..." he says, swallows, and Dresden pulls the bag back from him.

"I'll just take it to her," he says. "Something. Sorry about your ... stuff." he waves a hand at the sputtering computer, and Kirmani watches him twitch his way to the stairwell, only closing his mouth once Dresden's gone from view. He's going to be having nightmares himself now, and wonders if Murphy would be willing to share her drugs. Too bad she'd probably shoot him for asking.

   
   


**3**

It's impossible and ridiculous and obviously not what it seems. Kirmani knows that more than he knows anything right now, and he glances over the top of the file folder to Captain Hackett, who is pacing back and forth behind his desk, and over to the reporter, Herrick, who is sitting across from him, smug around the lips and one leg crossed over the other.

The picture stares back at him, and he squints at it. Why is Dresden wearing Murphy's sunglasses?

And no. Just no. He might not trust Harry Dresden, Wizard, to stay still long enough for Kirmani to try and throw him, but he knows Connie Murphy. And if she was going to be lip-locking private consultants on the street, in the middle of a case, with her dad in town, even, then there's something else going on that he doesn't know about, probably doesn't want to, and will have to trust her with.

End of story.

Sid looks over the top of the folder at Captain Hackett's face, slowly reddening in splotches, and swallows his sigh as he closes the folder over the picture of Dresden and Murphy kissing. Maybe not quite the end. Somehow, this is all Dresden's fault.

   
   


**4**

Everything is dark but it's not going to stay that way, the darkness moves and has a sound that he can see, shades of purple and black and in an instant he _knows_ it, knows what's in its makeup and he shudders, gasping as a hand presses down on his back.

"Kirmani," Dresden says, "Kirmani, it's okay - no, no. Don't turn around. It's okay. Close your eyes, all right? Close your eyes." Dresden slides a warm, dry palm across his face, and his eyelids flicker, squeezed tight, and he imagines he can see the ThreeEye working through him, a flood, bright and yellow and burning, running down through his nose and mouth into his lungs and blood and all underneath his skin.

"Okay, okay," Dresden says, and the hand from his face slides under his elbow. "We gotta go, okay, Kirmani? Come with me, all right, don't worry, I got you."

Sid nods, the perps ran but they could come back, and the drug is everywhere, in the room, in the air, hell, in him, and he chokes on a laugh. Dresden's hand strokes up his back, and the one under his arm tightens, but Sid flutters his fingers, ducks his chin and breathes out and keeps his eyes shut. "Okay. Let's go," he says, and can taste the ThreeEye on his tongue.

He wavers a little when he stands, but Dresden's hands hold him still. "It's okay," Dresden says, "it's okay. First step, let's go."

They make slow progress, and Kirmani stumbles more than once, can still see the moving threads of the darkness, its scales and the way the air was melting, and by the time Dresden stops and Kirmani can hear him scrambling at the door, he thinks he's about to go mad. "Dresden," he says, "Dresden, my eyes, these _things_, I can't, I gotta - "

"- Okay, okay," Dresden says, and there is a gust of air as the door swings open. "Murph." The relief is solid in Dresden's voice, Kirmani can feel the weight of it and breathes deeps, and then Dresden's hand is on his face again, dry fingertips brushing his cheeks. "Shit, Kirmani, it's all on your face -- okay, right. Murphy. Look at Murphy, okay, Kirmani? When I say 'now,' I want you to open your eyes, all right?"

There is scuffling while Kirmani nods, and he can hear Murphy squawk at something, but he opens his eyes at Dresden's command, and his knees buckle.

Murphy is beautiful, lit and strong, eyes blazing clear and bright and a sword in her hand where Kirmani knows she must be holding her gun, and his eyes slam shut again at the light.

"Thanks," he says, voice tangled with panting and the rush of the things in the dark leaving his focus, and he holds on to Murphy, burned under his eyelids, as Dresden steers him out of the room and down the hall. "Thanks," he says again, and Dresden squeezes his shoulder. The things in the dark have crawled their way into his mind, but he has Murphy to see, too, and holds tight to that.

   
   


**5**

"Down, down, down, down," Dresden chants, and Kirmani wants to tell him to save his breath for running, but isn't about to waste his own. For someone with such long legs, Dresden is still just behind him, and Kirmani isn't about to lose his lead.

When they turn the corner into the alley, Dresden pushes him down and Sid yelps, knees buckling as he hits a pile of a green trash bags and a slowly-toppling tower of slimy cardboard boxes, and is buried. He has to fight his way to the top, clawing at plastic and spitting away the filth, and when he's kicked away the last layer of cardboard there is smoke curling up to the night sky, greasy and white and smelling oddly like pond scum, and Dresden is standing with his back to him, hockey stick clenched in one hand.

"Dresden," Kirmani coughs, grimaces at the taste of mud and old banana, and scrambles to his feet. He tips a little when he gets there, and Dresden's large hand swallows his shoulder, face oddly lit by a soft blue light coming from the cord danging from his neck.

No. It's coming from a pentacle hung on the cord, and Kirmani blinks at it, stares, until the light fades, and he looks up.

"Kirmani?" Dresden says, frowning, "you okay?"

"Where is it?" Sid asks, peering around Dresden's back and shrugging his hand from his shoulder. "The thing. Where'd it go?" There's a wet-looking smear on the ground, glistening and slowly burning away, and Kirmani watches as Dresden twitches, gesturing with his hockey stick.

"... He must have passed us," Dresden finally says. "When we. Ducked. Into here. It's dark. Maybe we lost him. Haven't seen him since." He scratches at the back of his head and looks distressed.

"Right," Kirmani says, and wonders how much of an idiot Dresden thinks he is. Dark out or not, the thing had five arms. And _claws_. "Right. Passed us. Sure."

   
   


**6**

There's a woman coming out of Dresden's office when he arrives, and he catches the door before she closes it, sliding inside while the bell jangles behind him. The office is a nice change from the chill of the wind outside, gusty and blustering wet with spring and the promise of rain, and Kirmani takes a second to enjoy the stillness.

The office looks empty, but he knows Dresden has to be around somewhere, and takes a few steps inside; the bag Murphy had handed off to him to deliver bangs against his thigh, and he unloops the plastic handles from around his wrist, clutching the drumstick inside instead, double-wrapped in its own evidence bag.

There are voices coming from somewhere close by, Dresden's and a man he doesn't recognise, accented and rich, and he follows them through a doorway and to a wide room with a kitchen and stairway, the back door visible across from him, and Dresden and a man with white hair and a dark suit are at the kitchen table. Dresden's draped across a chair, spreading out a stack of books and the other man hovers beside him, peering over Dresden's arm and down at the collection.

"No, Harry," the man says, and Kirmani reclassifies him from Unknown to Dresden's Friend, "that won't do it all. There's a second edition in that ridiculously dilapidated trunk you insist on keeping stuffed full and under the bed; you're far more likely to find an intact entry in there. I don't see why you insist on using the seventh edition."

"Because it's far less likely to explode in a pile of dust and ink if I touch it?" Dresden shoots the man a grin, open and wide, and Kirmani blinks as the man beams back despite his lecturing tone.

"I'm sure you must have picked up a delicate touch somewhere along the years, Harry." There's a definite tinge of something in the man's voice, and Kirmani feels his mouth start to drop open. "Then again, I don't think I've seen you open that trunk since we moved in." He closes it with a clink of teeth. Of _course_.

"You go stick your face in it, then, if you're so certain, Bob," Dresden says, waving a hand towards the stairs. "I'll check this one."

The other man, Bob, rolls his eyes, but is still smiling, and passes around Dresden's back close enough that they wouldn't be able to help but touch. Dresden jumps, and Kirmani nods. More than he wanted to see, definitely, but now he's seen it, and he wonders why he never did before.

He can tell the exact moment Dresden spots him from the widening of his eyes and the whole-body twitch he gives, from the pinwheeling of his arms to the open-shut flap of his mouth. "Kirmani!" he says, "what are you doing here?"

Bob stops, still behind Dresden, and regards him with as impassive a stare as Sid has ever seen, and he holds up his bag. "Drumstick?" He says. "From the Parchette scene. I think it's yours."

Dresden blinks at him, and Kirmani smiles. Dresden's gay - and apparently heavily involved with this Bob guy. Kirmani just can't believe he didn't notice before; it's the most obvious thing he's ever seen.


End file.
